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COPffiCGHT DEPOSJE 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 
OF A FRIEND 



LIFE OF 
REV. ALAN HUDSON, D.D. 




Jl Loving Tribute from His 
Friend and Fellow Pastor 

J. STANLEY <DURKEE, Ph.T>. 

ii 



THE SALEM D. TOWNE COMPANY 
Boston, 1916 



3X1 XLoD 






Copyright 
J. Stanley Durlcee 

1916 



1 



oiL 



JAN -4 I9I7 



6)CI.A453516 



To 

Alan Hudson 

who liveth and was dead and 

is alive forevermore 

and to all 

who likewise strive 

and overcome 

by the Blood of the Lamb 

and the Word of His Testimony 

this tribute 

of a Friend and Comrade 

is offered 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF A FRIEND 



A winter's storm is raging off the wild New- 
foundland coast. A fierce hurricane, an awful 
sea and great fields of drift ice contend in wild- 
est battling. The water for miles and miles off 
shore is white with spume and broken ice. 
Caught in that fearful war of elements is a noble 
ship coming in from her long voyage. Captain 
Alan Hudson, a native of the Island and hence 
familiar with that treacherous coast and those 
winter storms, fights the sailor's fight against un- 
equal odds. No ship ever constructed by man 
could stand the grinding ice in such a gale. 
Caught between two great floes, the ship is 
crushed. Only time enough is allowed the cap- 
tain and crew to make their escape to the 
largest ice floe, when the great fields separate 
again, and the ship goes down. The battle for 
life, adrift on the ice in a northern winter sea, is a 
battle known only to such sailor heroes. 

After days of untold suffering, the men were 
rescued. Captain Hudson reached his little 
home in Pouch Cove, eighteen miles from the 
city of St. Johns, spent with the struggle. 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 




OF A FRIEND 



That fight proved too much for human en- 
durance. The extreme cold and awful exposure 
so weakened him that a fatal illness followed. 
It was at this time, December 10, 1866, that 
little Alan was born. When but a week old, he 
was taken so critically ill that the old family 
doclor said the baby could not live. But the 
feeble father said, — " Yes, he will live and will 
become a minister of righteousness." Then tak- 
ing the helpless infant in his arms, he blessed him 
and, lifting a prayer to Almighty God, dedicated 
the child to the church. Eight weeks later, 
Captain Hudson sailed out over the bar and met 
his Pilot face to face. As he passed beyond 
human sight, yet, ere the curtain was drawn be- 
hind, he exclaimed in rapture at the sights which 
were greeting him, and the inhabitants of that 
other world who were coming toward him. 
With a smile upon his face that even death 
could not remove, he made his port in safety and 
went ashore in the glory land to abide forever. 

Captain Hudson was a marked man among 
the citizens of his native Island. Keeper of a 
general store, teacher of navigation, a successful 
sea captain, an earnesT: Christian and member of 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



the church, he was everywhere respected and 
honored. While he left the heritage of a Chris- 
tian husband and father, there was also left the 
heritage of struggle, to wife and children. 

Little Alan's constant companion was his 
sister Julia. Hand in hand they used to wander 
on the beach in summer, gathering shells or 
building castles of sand. That comradeship was 
life-long. Through all those after years of bat- 
tling, leading up to his triumphs, he turned to his 
sister for comfort and inspiration and always did 
that sister's heart respond. 

As he grew older, the struggles of such a 
hardy folk, as well as their sorrows, gripped him. 
With a vividness all his own he used to tell of 
standing on the bold and rocky shores of his Is- 
land home looking far out over the sea, while 
around him were the mothers, wives, and sweet- 
hearts of those fishermen who were far out on 
the fishing grounds. Then they all would sing. 
Hymns of the church which spoke their loves 
and prayers were chosen, and these they sent 
forth, hoping that their voices would be wafted 
to the dear ones far out on the waters to give 
them courage and cheer. If, for a moment, we 



OF A FRIEND 



may be Still, I think we can hear them singing 
now, while the waves beat time on the shore, 
" Jesus, Lover of my Soul," " Rock of Ages ? 
cleft for me," "Jesus Saviour, pilot me/' "Out 
on an ocean all boundless we roam ; we're 
homeward bound, homeward bound." In some 
parts of Newfoundland that custom is still main- 
tained. They sing to their loved ones far out at 
sea and offer their prayers to God for the safety 
of the ships and crews. 

Another very vivid memory I will ask him to 
tell in his own words : 

" One of the most wonderful experiences of my child- 
hood was a sledge ride, across Cape St. Francis to St. 
Johns, behind eight magnificent, great Newfoundland 
dogs. Long before day, came the hasty breakfast by 
candlelight, the careful packing of grocery boxes and 
bundles on the sledge, a basket of lunch for ourselves, a 
basket of corncake and scraps for our steeds. Last, but 
not least, the stowing in of my dumpy little figure, tucked 
to the chin in warm wolf robes beside the driver, then a 
swish and a snap of his long, lashed whip, a wild leap, a 
chorus of glad barks from those splendid dogs, and away 
we flew, under the morning starlight, into trackless fields 
of snow, or seemingly so to my wondering young eyes. 
The music of the bells on the dogs, their joyous cries as 
they strained their wiry muscles to their task, their curly, 
glistening, black and white coats, their long, silky ears 
and plumy tails swept backward in the morning wind, 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



thrilled my childish imagination with that sense of motion 
and wild adventure. The vast expanse of white, un- 
trodden snow-fields, the deep blue sky arching over us, 
lit by a thousand glistening lamps, our onward dash 
toward the sparkling horizon, all come back to me like 
some glorious flight toward the stars ! " 

One can see him pat those dogs with delight 
as they are home again, smoothing their long, 
curly coats and calling them by name with the 
love such boys and such dogs have for each 
other. 

As he grew older, he was told of that com- 
mitment of his life to God and to the church, by 
his dying father. How it gripped him ! It be- 
came the challenge of his living. It was a 
passion, a touch-stone for his ambitions. That 
consecration became to him almost a memory. 
So much did he live in it that he could feel him- 
self lifted in his father's arms. He could hear the 
prayer and those earnest words of consecration. 
They grew in his growth. They became lights 
to his ambitions, as those flashing lights along 
the shore of his Island home were lights to guide 
the sailors. He would steal away alone to a 
high bluff by the sea, and talk with himself of 
what he would become for God and the church. 



OF A FRIEND 

The white ship that sailed away yonder and 
dipped behind the sea line carried his young de- 
sires. The ships that came back to his Island 
home brought him prophecies of what he would 
do in that distant future. 

Do you say that these are old, old thoughts 
for a mere child ? Ah, but " the thoughts of 
youth are long, long thoughts." Even yet we 
little dream how our boys and girls are weaving 
from fancy their future careers and coloring those 
from the deeds of daily environment. 

They saw him there, the ordinary boy at home ; 
they knew not what ambitions were stirring, what 
strange voices were calling to the wide, open life. 

In the autumn of 1 872, his mother moved 
to Toronto, Canada. We are fortunate in 
possessing a photograph of him taken at this age. 

The picture shows that the boy is father to 
the man. The same finely chiseled face, broad 
forehead, heavy brows, mobile lips are here 
which, in after years, made him a marked man in 
any company. If there is a troubled expression 
of the brows, as if he wondered what this 
camera man meant to do to him, there is also a 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 




look in the eyes which shows that he is deter- 
mined to know, and will not run. That was his 
life's attitude. 



OF A FRIEND 

A couple of years after coming to Toronto, 
his mother married Mr. Jordan Churchill, himself 
a Newfoundlander, and six children were born, 
of whom four are still surviving. These children, 
together with Alan and Julia, formed a happy 
home. The older of the half brothers declared 
that they all looked up to Alan and were ever 
proud of him and of his successes. 

Life in Toronto was a close, hard struggle. 
Anything that the family could do to financially 
assist the parents was eagerly done. Alan used 
to get up in the gray dawn, walk a mile to the 
newspaper office, fold papers for an hour (those 
were the days before folding machines) and then 
deliver them to his customers from house to 
house. This would take him until 8.30 a.m. 
Then he would hasten home, get a bite of 
breakfast and rush off to Louisa Street Public 
School. 

Uneventful were the months and years follow- 
ing, save as they were deepening in the growing 
boy the consecration of his father and shaping his 
mind for future tasks. Uneventful, do we call 
them, those months between the planting of the 
seed and the gathering of the harvest, but every 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 




ELM STREET CHURCH 

hour is telling for or against that harvest. So 
were those seemingly uneventful years big with 



10 



OF A FRIEND 



the future in Alan's life. The old Elm Street 
Church, where he attended Sunday School, 
could it speak, would doubtless tell of his grow- 
ing reverence, of his silent boyhood prayers for 
a chance, as certainly his teachers tell of his 
eagerness in learning Bible verses and listening to 
those fascinating old stories. Yet, the old church 
could also tell of the fear generated in this boy by 
the awful pictures drawn in the sermons, of a 
lurid hell smoking just under the platform where 
the preacher stood. Dr. Hudson used to tell of 
the mental agony he experienced then, as well as 
physical, for his feet must swing from those high 
seats and a move to bring them to the floor for 
rest was instantly checked by a zealous but un- 
thinking guardian. 

At seventeen years of age came a crisis in his 
life. General Booth of the Salvation Army 
visited Toronto and made many addresses. One 
night the plea for volunteers reached Alan's soul. 
Sitting in that great audience, he debated his 
answer. Before him came again the vision of his 
dying father holding the babe in his arms, bless- 
ing it and consecrating it to the church of Jesus 
Christ. To-night is the call from such inspired 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



lips as those of William Booth. Shall he yield ? 
Has the hour come when he will take an open 
stand for righteousness? The battle was not 
long for decision, but the struggle to stand was 
a fierce struggle. At last with the cry of Isaiah 
upon his lips, " Here am I, send me," he arose, 
went to the front and kneeled there, a new joy 
and strange elation flooding his soul. 

With him such a consecration was business. 
He must go out after others and win them to 
Jesus Christ. The very next night found him 
leading a comrade to the altar. Within a few 
weeks he joined the Army, marching with them 
upon the streets and speaking to the assembled 
crowds. " Why, he is only a boy ! " they cried. 
" Listen to him talk ! " So rapidly did he develop 
in the art of street preaching that within a few 
weeks he was called "the eloquent boy preacher." 
Many a person said to his mother, " Some day 
that boy of yours will be a great preacher." 

Six months later, his call to public service 
came. He must leave all for Christ and give his 
time wholly to the Army. He accepted this call 
to Army work in the same spirit in which our 
young people are now accepting any social 



OF A FRIEND 



service work. Here was an opening. Here he 
could make his life count. Here he might find 
the pathway leading on to the greater work he 
desired. His mother remonstrated, thinking him 
too young, while others endeavored to hinder his 
going. The boy's answer showed his convic- 
tion, — " I must go, for God has called me." 
Then, turning, he said, " Mother, you may feel 
badly now, but some day you will be proud of 
me." 

And that revered and aged mother has 
been spared to see that day, again and again. 
Perhaps never a prouder day than on that 23d 
day of June, 1903, when Alan Hudson, as 
United States delegate to the great International 
Sunday School Convention, held in his same boy- 
hood city of Toronto, arose upon the rostrum 
from among the most eminent English and 
American divines, came quietly to the front, 
paused a moment in silence, swept the vast 
auditorium and crowded galleries with a glance 
which challenged attention, and then, as though 
the memory of his boyhood struggles, his seekings 
after the true God had been welling up in his big 
heart like a pent stream, he poured forth his 

13 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



eloquent plea for setting Christ, and Christ only, 
in the hearts of childhood and youth. A hush 
fell over that vast audience of seven thousand 
people. They sat spellbound under that rich, 
musical voice in wonderful appeal. When he 
ceased speaking, cheer after cheer of pride and 
enthusiasm shook the great assembly hall, their 
pride augmented by the fact, which in opening 
he had briefly referred to, that he was the brown- 
eyed boy who had peddled papers in their 
streets in the long ago. But all the tributes 
of this audience and the approval of his peers 
were not so grateful to his heart as when, at the 
close of the session, an old, old man with snow- 
white hair, pushed through the crowd, grasped 
his hand with both of his own, exclaiming with 
shaking voice, "Alan, Alan, my boy ! Do you 
know me?" Some note in the quavering voice 
was a key to unlock a far-away memory. " My 
old Sunday School teacher? Can it be possi- 
ble?" "It is, it is! Thank God for this day! " 
said the aged man, and added in fervent voice, 
" Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace ! " 
The love and pride of that boyhood teacher, as he 
wrung his hand in farewell and sought his 

14 



OF A FRIEND 



mother seated near at hand, and the sight of the 
grateful tears upon her cheek were more to his 
loyal heart than all the plaudits of the public 
and the press which followed. 

A favorite poem of Dr. Hudson's throughout 
his life, and one he so often quoted, was 
Kipling's " Mother o' Mine." 

If I were hanged on the highest hill, 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 
I know whose love would follow me still, 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 

If I were drowned in the deepest sea, 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 
I know whose tears would come down to me, 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 

If I were damned of body and soul, 

I know whose prayers would make me whole, 

Mother o* mine, O mother o' mine. 

Accepted by the Army, he was sent to Nova 
Scotia as Captain of a division. There, in St. 
John and Moncton, New Brunswick, and Sum- 
merside, Prince Edward Island, he conducted 
wonderfully successful evangelistic campaigns, 
winning scores and scores of earth's defeated 
and broken children back to a life of sobriety 
and faith in God. 



15 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



It was at this latter place that he met another 
of life's crises. This time it was in the form of a 
pair of blue eyes softly gleaming from a beautiful 
girl's face. Mr. Robert McC. Stavert, one of 
those noble Christian men, heard the young Salva- 
tion Army preacher and was instantly attracted 
by his face, his voice, and his earnest ap- 
peals. He sought the personal acquaintance of 
this brilliant young leader, invited him home, and 
talked to him long and earnestly regarding his 
need of an education to fit him for the greater 
positions he could fill. Mr. Stavert even took the 
initiative, reading with his guest such books as 
stimulated in the young man a desire for higher 
education. In that home was that blue-eyed girl 
of fourteen years. She was quick, vivastic, ideal- 
istic. Though he never guessed it at the time, 
nor did she, yet the moment of their first meet- 
ing in her father's home was fated with a life love. 
He never forgot those eyes of blue. Love for her 
became his attraction, though he only longed and 
feared and dreamed of a love like hers which 
he knew was now infinitely beyond his reach. 

Thus were the seeds planted for a higher 
education and a noblest life love. An inspiration 



OF A FRIEND 



for this higher education also came to him from 
Rev. William Lawson, a Methodist minister in 
New Brunswick. At about the age of twenty, 
Mr. Hudson met that brilliant Baptist preacher, 
then of Moncton, New Brunswick, Rev. W. B. 
Hinson. Each was attracted strongly by the 
other. Dr. Hinson persuaded the young evange- 
list to enter the work of the church, and baptized 
him a member of that church. Soon Mr. Hud- 
son became assistant to the pastor and besides 
his regular duties in the church preached in the 
little Baptist Church at Cherry Valley. God led 
Joseph to the throne of Egypt by the way of the 
prison. He led Alan Hudson to a commanding 
pulpit along the way I have indicated. By every 
road He leads upward. 

" Blind unbelief is sure to err 
And scan His works in vain ; 
God is His own interpreter 
And He will make it plain." 

In the fall of 1888, Mr. Hudson entered 
Bangor Theological Seminary, spending one 
year there. His course of studies for the year 
was Greek, Old Testament History, and He- 
brew. Rev. Newman Matthews of Andover, 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 

Massachusetts, his roommate at Bangor writes of 
that year, — " I retain certain vivid impressions 
which this intimate, daily association with him 
made on me. First, of the hearty manner in 
which he took up his studies, — a difficult thing 
to do for one who had been out of school 
several years. Then, too, of how eagerly he 
was looking forward to the future, as high- 
minded young men are apt to do. We talked 
and dreamed together a good deal of the future. 
How well I remember those talks ! Of two 
other things which are important in the light 
of his later career, I have very distinct impres- 
sions, — his taste for great literature and his 
kindliness, brotherliness and big-heartedness, all of 
which marked so notably his later life. Even in 
that day he loved his Shakespeare whose lines he 
later stored away in memory and were so often 
upon his lips. His remarkable capacity for 
friendship, too, was present in those early days." 
After a year at Bangor, Mr. Hudson felt the 
necessity of being in a larger centre where the 
greatest advantages would be his. He realized 
that Boston would offer most to him now, de- 
nied as he had been of earlier school training. 

18 



OF A FRIEND 



Consequently, in the fall of 1890 he entered 
Boston University School of Theology, graduating 
from the School in 1 892. Of his life there many 
classmates write enthusiastically. A single inci- 
dent reveals his life-long characteristic. One day 
in his class in oratory, he was called upon to give a 
portion of that great speech, " Webster's Reply to 
Hayne." So feelingly and forcefully did he 
render the part that his professor complimented 
him in the highest terms. Then, another member 
of the class was called on for the same task. 
This young man, of hesitating manner, low voice 
and with no experience as a speaker, rendered 
the part in such a way that the professor forgot 
himself and mimicked him to the cruel delight 
of certain members of the class. Then, criticisms 
were called for from the class. Taking their cue 
from the professor, they, too, criticized harshly. 
At last it came Mr. Hudson's turn. He, white 
with indignation, rising from his seat, said, " I do 
not wish to be considered disrespectful or take 
to myself power that does not belong to me, but 
I do wish to say that for a class or even a 
professor to ridicule and shame a student when 
he has tried to do his best, is beneath the 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



contempt of fair-minded people." The class was 
dismissed. As the students crowded through the 
door, Mr. Hudson felt a pull at his coat and at 
the same time a hand sliding inside his own and 
a hungry squeeze given. Turning, he met the 
eyes of that student, — eyes filled with tears. 
Not a word was then spoken, but that incident 
was the beginning of a life-time friendship. 

One day a fellow student came saying, 
" Hudson, I would give anything if I could 
approach people as you do ; if I could face an 
audience and affect it as you do. I have all the 
money and influence I want, but I haven't got 
what you have. Where did you get it from ? 
You have something that money cannot buy or 
education give. Tell me how you got it ? " Alan 
turned to him and said, " Yes, I will tell you. It 
is my great love for saving souls. When you can 
get down into the gutter and point the poor 
drunkard and the fallen woman the way to a 
better life and tell them there is a Saviour who 
loves them, then you have my secret." That 
passion characterized his whole life. Big, broad, 
scholarly, refusing to be cramped by man-made 
creeds, fearlessly proclaiming the newer truths in 

20 



OF A FRIEND 



science and revelation, eagerly investigating all 
fields of modern Biblical research and standing 
for that newer revelation in the face of all 
captious criticism, he yet was ever swayed by the 
passion to point sinful men and women the way 
to a better life and tell them of that Saviour 
who loves them. That steadied his scholarship, 
gave pleading to his voice and eloquence to his 
lips. 

Dr. Nacy McGee Waters, so recently 
going from us and leaving such a wake of 
sorrow and tears, was a school mate of Mr. 
Hudson's during that first year at Boston 
University. 

After graduating from his School of Theology 
and feeling yet the need of higher training 
and especially the culture of association with 
men of broadest scholarship and vision, he 
entered Harvard Divinity School for one year. 
We find him there in Room 7, Divinity Hall, 
for the year 1 893. 

Those were hard years for the struggling 
student. He once wrote his sister Julia, " When 
I feel discouraged, I go to my room and talk it 
over with God." Then to the battle he goes 

21 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



once more. It was " trust God and then fight 
through." What a glimpse is this of struggle 
and strong reliance on God ! In such struggles 
are heroes of the cross moulded and iron put 
into the blood of future fighters. This year 
is especially memorable because of his engage- 
ment to that little blue-eyed Island girl, Ella 
Stavert, at whose home he was so inspired to a 
higher life by her father. A photograph taken 
about this time shows the development passing 
years have brought. 

During the summer of '93, the Pilgrim Congre- 
gational Church of North Weymouth, Massa- 
chusetts, extended him a call to become its 
pastor. After some hesitancy he accepted, be- 
ginning his work that fall. He was ordained to 
the ministry of Christ and His church December 
28th of the same year, Dr. George C. Lorimer 
of Tremont Temple, Boston, preaching the 
sermon. 

Can you see the young man as he walked 
slowly to the altar that night and kneeled for the 
ordaining prayer while the hands of brother pas- 
tors rested upon his bowed head ? That " almost 
memory " of the consecration by his father came 



OF A FRIEND 




back and the tears started as he thought of the 
prophecy and its fulfillment. The hard battling 



23 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



for education and self-mastery passed now in 
review and as the consecrating prayer ended and 
the consecrating hands were lifted, he raised 
his head, looked up, and smiled as if he were 
making answer to his father, while his splendid 
face was suffused with the inward light of 
his triumphant soul. 

That he would prove a success in this pastor- 
ate was at once apparent. His great capacity for 
friendship, his administrative ability, his pas- 
sion for Christ and for men led him into the 
very heart of that old church. Their love for 
him has not dimmed with the passing years. 
The letter of sympathy to Mrs. Hudson from the 
church at the time of his seemingly untimely 
death, speaks from the heart : 

" His ministry began with us. Here he established his 
home. In this church he wrote the introduction to his 
life's work ; and although it has been twenty years since 
he closed his work here, his ministry is still fresh in the 
hearts of us all. . . . He possessed that rare gift of 
entering hearts and there abiding through the years. His 
friendships consequently were not changing, only en- 
larging. Now that his brief, full chapter is closed, he will 
be. as though the years had not separated him, our 
beloved pastor and true friend." 

24 



OF A FRIEND 

On November 28th of the year 1 894 he was 
married to Ella Stavert whose blue eyes and 
laughing, loving face had been to him an inspir- 
ation and a challenge. The Island home at 
Summerside was gay with house flowers and 
filled with loving friends as he led her to the 
altar where awaited them the pastor, Rev. E. M. 
Dill, who spoke the glad, solemn words that 
made them one " Till death us do part." 

And what years of love and perfect comrade- 
ship have followed ! That love, which waked and 
challenged him, has nerved and inspired and led 
him on to eminent heights of achievement. I asked 
Mrs. Hudson to give me her impressions of 
the man I call my friend. With a sob that cut 
like breaking heart-strings, she said, — " The 
noblest, truest, best of husbands. To my younger 
life he was my ideal, high-minded, interested in 
humanity, a lover of nature. Our life together for 
twenty-two years, blended in perfect harmony, 
deepened and strengthened the impressions of my 
girlhood, — He is still my ideal." Noblest words 
are these from the heart that knew. But let him 
speak of Mrs. Hudson. In his letter of resignation 

25 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



to the Brockton church, after nineteen years 
of service, he says : 

" If, in the swiftly passing years of this ministry, a 
simple service has been rendered to this church and city, 
it is due to the guidance of our common Father, the 
unflagging loyalty of you, my faithful people, and the 
tireless sympathy of the gentle woman, who, hand in hand 
with me in these years of ceaseless toil, has borne the 
burdens, soothed the sorrows and brightened the hopes 
of weary souls along the dusty way of life." 

Read again, and more deeply, his love, from 
the dedication of his great historical novel " A 
Heritage of Honor," 

" To my mother, 

a gentle lady of the old school, 

and 

To my wife, 

a sweet lady of the new, 

in whose tender eyes 

of brown and blue 

I see as in a mirror 

a familiar face." 

Or read again his words of farewell at that 
final great reception in Brockton where fifteen 
hundred people came to say goodbye : 

" Through all my life as your pastor, there has always 
been that guiding spirit of my dear wife always ready to 

26 



OF A FRIEND 




aid me, and whatever success I may have achieved I owe 
to her." 



27 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF A FRIEND 

Three boys have been born a blessing and 
comfort to their home, Robert Stavert, Alan 
Bedford, and Henry Clinton. May they worth- 
ily follow in the footsteps of such a father, for 
without them, he cannot be made perfect. His 
ambitions for them were great. He knew the 
privations suffered for an education. He knew 
the worth of a cultured mind. Anything would 
he give for his boys. Noble, scholarly men they 
must become to fulfill his longings. 

In the spring of 1 896, Mr. Hudson received a 
call to the old First Congregational Church, 
Brockton, Massachusetts. The church was at 
that time scattered and much depleted. The 
church edifice had been destroyed by fire and the 
faithful remnant of members was worshipping in 
a hall on Centre Street, up two flights of stairs. 
Altogether it was a discouraging outlook. He 
saw great possibilities, however, beneath the dis- 
couraging exterior. He was warned by brother 
ministers that the task was great, perhaps too 
great. But he loved a hard task. To Mrs. Hudson 
he said, " This people have called me to minister 
to them. God help me to fill my dying father's 
prophecy to be a minister of righteousness." With 

28 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



a great cry to God for strength, he wrote his 
letter of acceptance. Some sentences show his 
very soul: 

" I realize fully the difficulties and tasks of your present 
situation, and the amount of earnest, consecrated labor 
that is requisite. But feeling sure of your fervent and 
prayerful co-operation, and being largely optimistic of the 
future welfare of the church, I not only return an affirma- 
tive answer to your call, but through Christ offer you my 
strength, zeal and labor to make the First Church a potent 
instrument for good in the City of Brockton. 

Hoping and praying that God will abundantly bless our 
labors together, and make us a daily inspiration to each 
other in our common labor of love, I am 

Sincerely yours in the service of Christ." 

He had preached in the hall on Centre Street 
but a few weeks ere it was crowded to overflow- 
ing and the congregation moved to Massasoit 
Hall on Main Street. Meanwhile, under his 
inspiration, plans were prepared for a new church 
edifice, and within a year was completed the 
present stately stone church, a pride to the 
denomination and to the City of Brockton. 

The dedication of that church was an auspi- 
cious occasion. Mr. Hudson was installed on 
Wednesday evening, December 1 st, and again 
the preacher was his personal friend, Dr. George 

30 



OF A FRIEND 




FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, BROCKTON 
31 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



C. Lonmer. On Thursday evening came the 
dedication of that magnificent new building. 
Hearts were strangely glad and eyes glistened 
with tears of joy as the young pastor read " The 
Call to Worship," 

" Praise waiteth for Thee, O God in Zion ; 
And unto Thee shall the vow be performed. 
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness, 
Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, 
And into His courts with praise." 

The congregational hymn chosen was that by 
President Timothy Dwight of Yale, 

" I love Thy kingdom, Lord, 
The house of Thine abode, 
The church our blest Redeemer saved 
With His own precious blood." 

Dr. Lyman Abbott, of old Plymouth Church, 
Brooklyn, was the preacher. The benediction 
by Pastor Hudson sent his people out into 
the night with great hopes and great faith. That 
faith has been kept and those hopes have 
been fulfilled beyond their dreams. 

To be a mere parochial priest, a denomina- 
tionalist bounded by the interests of his one 
church, was too small a task for such a man. 
He esteemed a modern minister's duty to be that 

32 



OF A FRIEND 



of leader in all civic, social and religious affairs. 
His parish was the whole city and his heart was 
open to every appeal. Rapidly he became a 
great civic leader. In every crisis in the life 
of Brockton for nineteen years, his voice was 
authoritatively raised, his wise judgment respected. 
Many movements for civic betterment in the city 
owe their inception to him in whole or in part. 
He was one of the foremost in the formation of 
the powerful No-License League ; inaugurated 
" country week " for mothers, which the Wo- 
man's Club now supports ; urged the extension of 
Young Women's Christian Association work ; 
was quick to help secure more time with their 
families for the firemen ; made a keen study of 
labor conditions so that in clashes with capital, 
his word as to the right or wrong of a situation 
was with power ; was foremost in urging public 
play grounds. When the troops were called out 
for the Spanish- American war, he opened the 
doors of his church and held with them a most 
impressive service. For two terms he was Chap- 
lain of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery 
Company of Boston. This brought a great joy to 
his own life and a great pride to that famed 

33 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



organization. He organized the Belgian Relief 
Committee of Brockton. His wonderful breadth 
of sympathy and his great catholicity of spirit can 
be revealed in no clearer way than in his own 
words spoken at his farewell in Brockton: 

" I would repudiate any creed or church that would pre- 
vent my clasping the hand of any one of them, and call- 
ing them brother and friend. I despise the bigot. I honor 
him who can see the good in a fellow-man beyond the 
pickets of his own creedal fence. 

Several weeks ago I spoke from the pulpit of a Jewish 
synagogue in this city. The response of those eight hun- 
dred Jewish men to the appeal of justice and righteousness 
could not be surpassed by any congregation of Christians 
in the city. 

Ten years ago, when I was ill and confined to my bed, 
Father Herlihy, the priest of St. Edward's Roman 
Catholic Church of this city, came to my bedside, and 
breathed a tender and beautiful prayer for my recovery. 
That prayer lingers with me as a golden memory. Several 
years ago I visited him when, in frail health, he was turn- 
ing his brave face toward the life beyond. 1 took 
his hand in mine and said, ' Father Herlihy, you are 
a Catholic and I am a Protestant, but we are common 
children of the same great Father. You and I are friends 
and brothers. We are brothers here ; we will be 
brothers beyond the stars. I want to pray with you, not 
as a minister, but as a brother man.' There was a soft 
pressure of the hand, a smile like summer dawn upon his 
face, and he whispered, ' Yes, my friend, my brother, 
pray for me.' In reverence I lifted the soul of the dying 
priest up to the heart of his Father and my Father, the 



34 



OF A FRIEND 



Father of every creed and race. That was not sectarian- 
ism as it is generally understood. But it was religion. And 
when I saw the light and peace of the unseen world in the 
eyes of the good priest as I left him, to see him no more 
upon this bank and shoal of time, I knew, and he knew, 
that it was the only kind of religion that would live and 
love throughout the night of death, and rise in joy upon 
shores eternal." 

For ten years he was President of the Ministe- 
rial Union of his city. What his brother pastors 
thought of him, let them tell, in the set of resolu- 
tions, beautifully inscribed, which they presented 
to him at that wonderful meeting of farewell 
following his resignation to the First Church : 

" Whereas, our esteemed Brother, Rev. Alan Hudson, 
D. D., for the past nineteen years minister of the First 
Parish Congregational Church in the city of Brockton, 
has now resigned his pastorate, and is departing from our 
midst, 

And whereas, he has for many years been the 
honored president of the Ministerial Union of Brockton 
and vicinity, presiding with dignity and impartiality over 
all its deliberations, winning the hearts of all by the 
brotherly relations which he sustained to each member, 

And whereas, he has made the Annual Ministers' 
Outing at Amrita Island, Cataumet, a delightful memory 
by his genial hospitality and inimitable courtesy, 

And whereas, he has been an inspiring and fearless 
leader in all causes of reform in our city, as well as lending 
a hand to many broader interests of State and Nation, 
therefore be it 



35 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



Resolved, That we express to Dr. Hudson our pro- 
found sorrow and regret at his removal from the 
Presidency of our Association, and for the loss of his 
presence and leadership in the moral and religious life of 
our community. 

We pray that in the new spheres of activity, whither 
the Master is calling, he may ever find a deepening sense 
of the presence of our Heavenly Father ; an ever increas- 
ing delight in the things of tht Kingdom, and an ever 
widening ministry of usefulness among his fellows." 

After nineteen years of arduous service for his 
church, Dr. Hudson felt that the time had come 
to relinquish parochial cares, that he might give 
himself more fully to literary pursuits, though 
he would never abandon the pulpit. On Sunday 
morning, June 20th, 1915, he read his letter of 
resignation. Some extracts from that letter deeply 
reveal the man. 

" In this parting word to you, my people, I hope I may 
be permitted to express my gratitude for the generous 
opportunities you have offered me in countless ways to 
serve my fellowmen, in their problems of labor, charity, 
reform and religion, and in the growth and enrichment of 
the highest ideals of the city itself. Nineteen years of 
such labor freely given has left within my heart and brain 
an affection for this historic church, and for Brockton, 
which time cannot efface. I have tried to be of service to 
humanity, without a thought of class or race or sect. 
For manhood is greater than church and character is 
nobler than creed. . . . 



36 



OF A FRIEND 



With nineteen years of your love and fidelity as a 
fragrant memory, I turn my face toward the future, 
saying with Cardinal Newman, — 

' So long Thy power has blest me, sure it 

still will lead me on 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, 

till the night is gone ; 
And with the morn those angel faces smile 
Which I have loved long since, and lost 

awhile.' " 

The resignation came as a complete surprise 
to his congregation and to the city. Every effort 
was made by church and citizens to reverse his 
decision. The final decision had been made, 
however, and there could be no turning back. 

On September 1 9th, came his farewell ser- 
mon. A few paragraphs will reveal his catho- 
licity of spirit, breadth of thinking, and ever 
present passion for righteousness : 

" The Christianity of the future will lay more empha- 
sis upon spiritual, and less upon the merely social. For 
nearly half a century Christianity has been drifting away 
from its spiritual idealism. The day was when the passion 
of men was for God. Then men went to church for the 
vision of the eternal. Then the heart hungered for the 
living Christ who gave the bread of life to humanity. 

While that passion lingers in a modified degree, it is 
obscured by the modern craze in our churches for social 
entertainment. 



37 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



The church of to-day prides itself more highly upon 
the consummation of a fine concert than upon the salvation 
of a soul. It congratulates itself upon successful toasts and 
suppers, in which religion is reduced to the vanishing 
point, more than upon the culture of the cross. It devotes 
eighty per cent of its energies to clubs and circles, to 
socials and banquets, and forgets that its superlative 
mission is to reveal to men the face of Jesus Christ. 

I have no objection to social functions in religion. 
They are all an essential part of our multifarious life. I 
would increase the social attractions for both old and 
young. But when the church of the historic and redempt- 
ive Christ takes them up as substitutes for religion, when 
they consume the time and strength of a divine organiza- 
tion commissioned to make God known to sinning human- 
ity, then they are impediments to the cross and conducive 
to spiritual retrogression. If the church is to live, the 
spiritual passion must be first, and the social functions 
second. 

The church of the future must re-emphasize the 
supremacy of the spiritual life. That alone satisfies the 
craving of the human heart. That alone fills the aching 
void, when other things disappoint us. The success of 
the New Thought movement, and of Christian Science, 
which have been attracting so many thoughtful people, is 
not that they have a new gospel which many churches 
have forgotten in their craze for entertainment, but that 
they are re-emphasizing the old gospel which declares 
that ' God is a spirit and they that worship Him, must 
worship Him in spirit and truth.' The Christianity of the 
next fifty years, if it is to live in the conscience, imagina- 
tion and heart of humanity, must make all else secondary 
to the spirituality of the redemptive Christ. 

38 



OF A FRIEND 



The Christianity of the future must also be less a 
religion of form and belief, and more a religion of life 
and character. In the majority of instances, the question 
asked of a candidate seeking church membership is 
' What do you believe ? ' A good belief is essential 
often to a good life, but it is not the primary thing. 
Christ made no such blunder. He saw deeper into the 
heart of religion than we. With him a creed meant little 
or nothing. Conscience and a character were everything. 
He said, ' Sin no more, ' ' Follow me. ' These are the 
substance of religion. 

It is not what a man believes, but how he lives that 
decides the question of his Christianity. It is not the 
creed he repeats every Sunday morning that convinces 
his business associates of his religion, but it is the white- 
ness of his conscience, and the simple genuineness of his 
manhood. It is not what you believe but what you are 
that stamps upon you the royal seal of Jesus Christ. 

If the church of the future is to live, it must sound this 
note to the men in the pews. It must cry out with the 
old prophet Joel, ' What doth God require of thee, but 
to love mercy, do justly and walk humbly before thy 
God.'" 

On Tuesday evening, the 21st, fifteen hun- 
dred people from every walk of life assembled 
at the church to bid him and Mrs. Hudson god- 
speed. Tomorrow they will leave for their new 
home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. What 
warm tributes of admiration and love were paid 
to him. They gave him roses while he lived that 
he might sense the fragrance and revel in the 

39 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



beauty ere he passed. He did not need to die 
ere others told him their loves. " That farewell 
was one of the most remarkable tributes ever 
given to a living man," — such was the verdict 
of thousands. 

To what heights he attained as a student may 
be revealed by a visit to his study in Cambridge. 
Come with me into that loved room. Look 
about you. Here are the great books of the ages. 
Literature and theology of course predominate. 
But here are books on all great themes, for he 
was vitally interested in every subject that related 
to man and his environment. Strangely enough, 
here are sets of law books ! Yes, in the years 
1906, '07, '08, '09 he studied law in the 
Sprague Correspondence School, declaring that 
a minister must have a knowledge of this great 
branch of study if he would be at his best. 
Here are his loved volumes of Shakespeare. 
There is a noble edition of Emerson. All the 
great poets and authors were his personal friends. 
In this room he dreamed and worked. Here, at 
this desk, a gift from the Brockton Firemen's 
Relief Association for which he had contributed 



40 




CAMBRIDGE STUDY 



OF A FRIEND 

so much of time and strength, came the inspira- 
tion for those great sermons and addresses. 

I have already spoken of a wonderful triumph 
which was his in his own city of Toronto. Let 
me quote from the letter of a colored woman 
who describes a Washington scene in which he 
took part : 

" About two or three years ago, I attended a mass 
meeting held in the city of Washington, D. C, for the 
purpose of protesting against injustice to colored people 
in the government departments there. (I am of the 
colored race myself.) 

When those on the program had spoken, there was 
introduced to the audience a visitor, whose name was 
Rev. Alan Hudson. ' With the tongue of men and of 
angels' he electrified the great audience ; he swept them 
from their feet ; he swayed them until all else was for- 
gotten, and under the spell of his impassioned utterances, 
the vast multitude sat in breathless admiration. Unaffected 
sincerity seemed to clothe him as with a garment, and 
listening to him, one could believe that in the heart of 
one great soul, at least, the doctrine of the ' brotherhood 
of man' was in no sense an impractical dream. The 
world is sadly in need of just such broad-hearted men as 
Alan Hudson. I feel there is indeed ' a great man fallen 
this day in Israel.' " 

Dr. Hudson's sermons and lectures were cast 
in the language of prose poetry. There is a 

41 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 

rhythm to all his utterances. But he was also a 
lync poet of deep, deep feeling. It would be 
a delight to collect these many children of his 




brain and give them a permanent place. I select 
but one poem and that not for the poetry, but for 
a new look into the heart of one who "heard 



OF A FRIEND 



the voice of God walking in the garden at the 
cool of the day ": 

" I sat in leafy woodland 

' Neath shade of stately tree 
With naught to hear but stillness 
Loud in its tensity. 

I heard no voice of songster, 

No music broke the spell ; 
The voice of God in silence 

Was all my heart could tell. 

I could not hear its cadence, 

Its sacred richness clear ; 
I only felt the stillness, 

And knew that God was near. 

I lost the shady bower, 

The woodland was no more, 

My soul and God's had blended 
In union evermore." 

Reference has been made to his great 
capacity for friendship. An extraordinary life 
was his in this respect. Of the hundreds who 
knew him intimately, each will declare his great- 
est intimacy. He drew friends to himself as 
naturally as a magnet draws the steel. And 
when once he was a friend of yours, he was a 

43 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



friend forever. He was " The Thousandth 
Man " of whom Kipling writes : 

" His wrongs, your wrong, and his rights, your right, 
In season and out of season. 
Stand up and back it in all men's sight, — 
With that for your only reason ! 
Nine hundred and ninety men can't bide 
The shame or mocking or laughter, 
But the thousandth man will stand by your side 
To the gallows' foot and after ! " 

Some of the greatest men in America have 
called him friend. Dr. Newell Dwight Hillis of 
Brooklyn wrote the author at the time of Dr. 
Hudson's death : 

" I have returned from a long lecture trip to find the 
news of the death of Alan Hudson and your tribute of 
affection to our old friend. It spreads a black cloud over 
the face of the sun. I have always associated Hudson 
with life, and never thought of him in relation to death,— 
and I am unable to realize that the announcement is true. 

This inability in itself is a kind of argument for im- 
mortality, and if the intellect questions, the heart stands up 
and answers, ' I have felt.' He was only at the beginning 
of his career and what treasure was locked up within him, 
none of us can ever know. " 

That capacity for friendship drew to him at 
the very opening of his Brockton ministry, among 
other great friends, two of his own parishioners, 



OF A FRIEND 




Mr. and Mrs. Thomas A. Baxendale. To their 
lovely retreat on Amrita Island, Cataumet, he 



45 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 

came one day, and the visit began a friendship 
which lasted through the lifetime of Mr. Baxen- 
dale and has been perpetuated by Mrs. Baxen- 
dale through these years. His life for twenty 
years has been so interwoven with that beautiful 
Island and these dear friends, that apart from it 
and from them his life's story could not be writ- 
ten. Practically every summer these many years 
has been passed at the Island with wife and 
children and, since the death of Mr. Baxendale 
in 1910, as members of the family, living in that 
beautiful home which looks out from the bluff far 
over sand and shore and sea to the infinite dis- 
tances of infinity. Forth from this Island he has 
gone to some of his greatest triumphs. In this 
home, yes, in this very room where now I write 
and from whose windows and balconies I 
look out to that changing, changeless sea, he 
wrote his charming romance, "A Heritage of 
Honor." The Island was in his thoughts when 
he went forth to those foreign travels which 
colored and beautified all his after speech and 
thought. Whenever he was worn and weary, 
desiring to escape even for a day the nerve- 
wrecking strain of a busy pastors life, he sought 

46 



OF A FRIEND 

the quiet of this retreat, always to find "mother" 
Baxendale waiting to welcome him, and the 
gardens and birds and God calling " Come apart 
and rest awhile and pray." Amrita Island was 
to him what the cuckoo was to Wordsworth, 
"No thing, but a voice, a mystery." I can see him 
now coming down through the cedars, catching a 
vision of the house in the distance to behold in a 
moment that almost tropical luxuriance which 
suddenly spreads itself out before the eye and 
charms and holds captive the heart. 

To this loved Island he came on Wednesday, 
May 24, 1916. Though warned by his physi- 
cians to stay more in the out-of-doors and seek 
greater relax from mental effort, yet none, not 
even his family, knew that serious complications 
threatened his life. We knew him only in health 
and love. But he was tired and worn with the 
long year of toil in preaching and lecturing, 
together with the writing of a drama entitled 
" The Eye of a Needle." He had finished that 
great work and laid it upon his study desk in 
Cambridge. Now Amrita called. He answered 
gladly and came. On Thursday he wandered 
about the Island, tending the vines and flowers. 

47 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



An excursion he made to a nearby cottage, 
planning for the coming of his friend in the vaca- 
tion season. At night he retired, happy, at peace 




with God, loved as few are loved by his own 
family, and conscious of the love of friends. In 
early morning, the great summons came to him 



45 



OF A FRIEND 



and without time for farewell, he, too, went out 
over the bar and met his Pilot face to face. 

The announcement of his death came like a 
breath of fear. We stood still in bewilderment. 
Then we hastened to bring the help and comfort 
our hearts could bring. The great Comforter 
came with us, was there before us, and in His 
own way brought ease that kept those hearts 
from breaking. 

Tears, tears, blessed tears ! How the heart 
would scald, were it not for tears ! . Useless 
tears, bitter tears, yet tears of longing and hope 
and strong crying for love. 

A Memorial Service was held in his old First 
Church at Brockton on Sunday afternoon. A 
great outpouring of the people testified to a city's 
sorrow. Brother pastors of all beliefs told their 
love and affection for him, and of his great work 
for others. Representatives came in large num- 
bers from "Bethany," Quincy, and "Pilgrim," 
Dorchester, the two churches in which he had 
preached during the year following his departure 
from Brockton. Pilgrim Church had been listen- 
ing to him for only a few weeks, yet had become 
captivated by the great heart, great love, great 

49 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 

scholarship of the man. The announcement of 
his death was a stunning blow. They mourned 
him as a life-long friend. On the Sunday even- 
ing following his burial, they held a tender 
memorial service. Dr. Bridgman, editor of 
" The Congregationalism" Rev. Nicholas Van 
der Pyl of Haverhill, and Rev. J. Stanley 
Durkee, each brought their tributes of respect 
and love. The great church was filled with a 
sorrowing people. 

Scores of letters and resolutions from churches 
and societies throughout New England and 
Canada poured in upon the family. 

On Monday, we came to say our good-bye 
to him " 'til we meet at Jesus' feet." Rev. H. 
Clinton Hay of Brookline voiced our longings 
in prayer and poem : 

" He is not dead, but only lieth sleeping 
In the sweet refuge of his Master's breast, 
And far away from sorrow, toil, and weeping, 
He is not dead, but only taking rest. 

What though the highest hopes he dearly cherished 
All faded gently as the setting sun ; 
What though our fondest expectations perished 
Ere yet life's noblest labors seemed begun ; 

50 




WAITING TO WELCOME 



OF A FRIEND 



What though he standeth at no earthly altar, 
Yet in white raiment, on the golden floor, 
Where love is perfect, and no step can falter, 
He serveth as a priest forevermore ! 

O glorious end of life's short day of sadness, 
O blessed course so well and nobly run ! 
O home of true and everlasting gladness, 
O crown unfading ! and so early won ! 

Though tears will fall, we bless Thee, O our Father, 
For the dear one forever with the blest, 
And wait the Easter dawn when Thou shalt gather 
Thine own, long parted, to their endless rest." 

President F. M. Newman, of Howard Uni- 
versity, which Institution had honored itself in 
1 904 by conferring on him the degree of D. D. 
and electing him as trustee, spoke of the contri- 
bution of Dr. Hudson to literature and life. Rev. 
J. Stanley Durkee of Brockton gave the following 
address : 

A FRIEND'S TRIBUTE 

" I sometimes hold it half a sin 
To put in words the grief I feel ; 
For words, like nature, half reveal 
And half conceal the soul within. 

But for the unquiet heart and brain, 
A use in measured language lies ; 
The sad mechanic exercise, 
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain. 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, 
Like coarsest clothes against the cold ; 
But that large grief which these enfold 
Is given in outline and no more." 

All day Friday, amid the heart-breaking ex- 
periences through which I was passing, where an 
almost unnatural calmness and control was 
demanded, there kept repeating itself over and 
over in my brain these words of Mark Antony, 
— " He was my friend, faithful and just to me." 
" He was my friend, faithful and just to me.'* 
It sang itself to me as I stood with my hand on 
his cold brow. It repeated itself to me as I broke 
the awful tidings to those whom he loved better 
than life. Wherever I moved in his favorite 
haunts, and when I stood at Sunset Point looking 
off from that lovely place, the refrain would come 
back again and again, — " He was my friend, 
faithful and just to me." 

Alan Hudson possessed the unusual gift of 
making everybody friendly. No one could come 
within the circle of his influence and not feel that 
warmth of heart and bigness of soul. It has 
never been my privilege to know another man 
whom everybody claimed as a personal and 

52 




THROUGH THE CEDARS 



OF A FRIEND 



particular friend. So universally true is this that 
it would seem almost a presumption on my part 
to speak of a nearer and more intimate friendship 
than others. Yet a nearer and more intimate 
friendship was mine. I walked and talked and 
loved with him, within the inner gardens of his 
great heart where the roses bloomed and the 
lilies were fair. I communed with him where 
the flashing fountains of literature, poetry, and art 
threw their spray into the glorious sunshine. 
Our laughter echoed over the lawns of our loves 
when fun was afloat, or our tears started when 
the woes of others cast their shadows over us. 
" He was my friend, faithful and just to me." 

How often we talked of friendship ! How 
often did we repeat those great words of Alfred 
Noyes : 

" What will you say when the world is dying ? 

What, when the last wild midnight falls 

Dark, too dark for the bats to be flying 

Round the ruins of old St. Paul's ? 

What will be last of the lights to perish ? 

What but the little red ring we knew, 

Lighting the hands and the hearts that cherish 

A fire, a fire, and a friend or two ! 

Up now, answer me, tell me true ! 
What will be last of the stars to perish ? 
The fire that lighteth a friend or two ! " 

53 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



He cherished that " friend or two " with a 
warmth that at times might seem excessive, — 
the excessiveness of a great, boundless soul. To 
live in that warmth was to unfold all one's deep- 
est yearnings and desires. There was a strange 
compulsion of confidence which made one won- 
der, when he had gone. But that such confi- 
dence would ever be betrayed, never crossed 
one's thought. He would never betray ! 

So often have I heard him say, — I can love 
the fellow who falls by his own weakness or is 
dragged down by the weakness of others ; I pity 
the one who sins through human frailties, no 
matter how far those frailties may lead him ; but 
I have no words of sufficient strength to express 
my detestation of one who deliberately betrays 
or knifes in the dark. That reveals a fiendishness 
of spirit from which I recoil with all my soul. 

Live in the sunlight, was his motto, and keep 
the sunlight playing everywhere. Be glad in 
God's glad world. Be not so anxious over your 
own selfish needs that you fail to see the larger 
needs of others. Think not that your task, your 
toil, your position, even your church and your 
parish is the only one. Live larger than your tasks 

54 



OF A FRIEND 

Be bigger than your work. Let all the people 
of whatever name or station share life with you. 

But the penalty of such bigness is a failure in 
petty details and misunderstanding by narrower 
men. He chafed under petty details and often 
rejoiced that little people misunderstood. He 
could measure the growth of his soul by the 
narrowness of all sectarianism. He despised the 
coward, the trickster, and the hireling. He had 
no fellowship with meanness. 

I will leave to others a rehearsal of those great 
qualities of brain and soul, which are the com- 
mon property of all who knew him ; and of the 
work which he has left for his monument. 

Indulge me in the desire to reveal his visions 
of things to be done, of work to be accomplished. 
With characteristic bigness and boldness, he saw 
that the religious drama would be one of the 
mightiest educational forces in the future. It 
would work its perfect will in the lives of 
millions, through the stage and the motion pic- 
ture. Could he speak a good word for his Lord 
and his church thus? Others Fad written re- 
garding the church, the minister, and the whole 
problem of religious development. But not one 

55 



IN THE FOOTSTEPS 

of those others had spoken from the inside 
knowledge of a long pastorate and a large 
church. Could he not counteract some of the 
false teaching of these popular books and plays ? 
He would try ! But a day before his death he 
had finished a drama on which a year of effort 
had been expended. That drama is Alan Hud- 
son's answer to fifty novelists and play writers 
who have written of ministers and churches 
from their ignorance rather than their knowledge. 
But what he has done, great as it is, and 
destined, I believe, to mold the lives of millions, 
is only a foreshadow of what he planned to do. 
He saw all the pathos, the horror, the downright 
sin of denominational separateness in the face of 
these giant world tasks. Only last week in his 
study at Cambridge, we talked over his visions 
of a drama that might help to show our present 
weaknesses as Christians, Protestants and Catho- 
lics alike, and focus attention on those fundamen- 
tal unities on which all could stand. His mind 
also turned to the story of Daniel, as recorded in 
the Old Testament, playing about those dramatic 
scenes with a freshness that prophesied a great 
work. 

56 



OF A FRIEND 



But the book that lived with him, spoke to 
him, beckoned him, and about which he 
dreamed, was the one to be entitled, " The 
Galilean." Here would he pour all the wealth 
of that great affection for his Lord. To this work 
would he bring all his scholarship, all his travels, 
all his twenty years of a pastor's experience, but 
especially all his passionate attachment to Jesus, 
and here would he speak his last word to his 
generation and the generations to come. 

Great dreams ! Great visions ! Do they die ? 
Do they perish forever? Do they pass into 
nothingness? Does that creative impulse fail? 
No ! No ! As God's creative impulse is eternally 
operative, so I believe man's will be. Robert 
Browning was right when he passionately cried : 

"All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall 

exist; 
Not its semblance, but itself ; no beauty, nor good, nor 

power 
Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the 

melodist, 
When eternity affirms the conception of the hour. 
The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too 

hard, 
The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky, 
Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard ; 
Enough that he heard it once : we shall hear it by and by." 

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IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



God's creative impulse faileth not, nor shall 
man's fail. Eternally divorced from all material 
limitations, that creative impulse of Alan Hudson 
will project itself across future forevers. 

I am glad we told him that we loved him. At 
his going away from our city, a council of Con- 
gregational Churches was called to dissolve the 
pastoral relations so beautifully maintained for 
nineteen years. When an opportunity was given 
for the church and for friends to express them- 
selves regarding the life and work of Dr. Hudson 
in our city, so wonderful were the expressions 
of love and appreciation, so many were the 
instances given of great personal help and life 
careers shaped, and so intimate were the offer- 
ings of friendship that one of the council ex- 
claimed, — " It were worth a hundred years of 
toil to gain such words of love and appreciation 
as these." 

Later the pastors of the city gave a farewell 
dinner to Dr. and Mrs. Hudson at the Young 
Men's Christian Association. The expressions 
from his brother ministers of the city with whom 
he had worked for years revealed such friendship, 
such brotherhood, such fair play and such earnest 

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OF A FRIEND 



Christian leadership that I have often said to him 
since, — You did not need to die to be told the 
esteem in which you were held and the love 
which was constantly surrounding you. 

I repeat, — I am glad we told him we loved 
him and allowed the flowers of our loves to 
surround him while he lived and could under- 
stand and appreciate them rather than to have 
waited until he was gone and then bury him 
beneath the beautiful flowers and amid the 
choicest aroma. 

But friends part to meet again. It is the prom- 
ise of God. I know it. I comfort my soul with 
the assurance. I challenge myself with the glad- 
ness. The intervening years may go heavily. 
The tiresome wait may be weary. The longing 
eyes may grow sleepy. But some day his ringing 
greeting shall come to me from over the hills of 
home and with clasped hands we shall stand for 
a moment to look into eyes that have expressed 
their loves, and be glad with a gladness that 
shall know no ending. "And to God, be the 
rest." 

He had so much to live for here ! To whom 
did the Future beckon with more frantic waving 

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IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



of her hand ? What sun rose so clear at morn- 
ing, shined so brilliantly at noontide, or set in 
such a blaze of glory, evening by evening, as did 
his ? To whom was ever granted a home more 
happy, a wife more loving, a family more dear? 
Were I piloting you to ideal homes, I would 
quickly take you to that lovely home of his in 
Cambridge. Oh, why could not the death angel 
have spared such a home to teach others of real 
earth gladness, and spared such a wife and 
mother the sorrow that she might sing in joy 
among those who are weary and heavy ladened ! 
God knows. God never makes mistakes. " I will 
trust and not be afraid." " Comfort ye, comfort 
ye, my people, saith your God." 

Could he come back to stand here with us to- 
day I think he would say — " It is all well. I see 
Gods plans in larger outline. 'All things are 
working together for His good.' ' The Eternal 
God is thy refuge and underneath are the ever- 
lasting arms.' " Could he thus speak, then would 
we answer him, — " Brother, Friend, Comrade, 
we will trust and follow, until the day dawns and 
the shadows flee away and we stand in the pres- 
ence of the King, to kneel with thee at His feet 

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OF A FRIEND 

in adoration, and then arise to sing with that great 
throng of the redeemed around the throne, " Bless- 
ing and honor and glory and power be unto him 
who sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb 
forevermore." 

He is not dead ! He cannot die ! He lives in 
larger measure than ever before. The going of 
others have meant great separations to me, but I 
strangely feel that there is no separation from him. 
He lives with me in thought and presence. 

" I think the gentle soul of him 

Goes softly in some garden place, 
With the old smile time may not dim 
Upon his face. 

He who was lover of the spring, 

With love that never quite forgets, 

Surely sees roses blossoming 
And violets. 

Now that his day of toil is through, 
I love to think he sits at ease, 
With some old volume that he knew 
Upon his knees. 

He who so loved companionship 

I may not think walks quite alone 

Failing some friendly hand to slip 
Within his own. 



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IN THE FOOTSTEPS 



For God is gentle to his guest, 

And, therefore may I gladly say, 

' Surely the things he loved the best 
Are his to-day.' " 




Jt jl Jt Jt 



62 



OF A FRIEND 



Meanwhile the sun was going out through the 
golden gates of the west, but the tide was com- 
ing in to its full. Slowly and with falling tears we 
carried him from the room he so much loved, 
down the great stone steps and along an avenue 
of flowers, to that beautiful mausoleum at Sunset 
Point and laid him beside his life friend. The 
Lotus Quartet stood under the little Egyptian 
kiosk which overlooks the mausoleum, Sunset 
Point, and the sea. Just as the tide lapped to its 
full on the stone steps and paused, ere it would 
go out once more, the beautiful words of the 
departing Tennyson came sweetly upon our ears : 

" Sunset and evening star, 
And one clear call for me ! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar, 
When I put out to sea, 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam, 

When that which drew from out the boundless 

deep 
Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell, 

And after that the dark ! 

And may there be no sadness of farewell, 

When I embark ; 



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IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF A FRIEND 



For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 

1 hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar." 

His own words in the closing of that touching 
memorial to Mr. Baxendale now became my 
words of good-bye to him : 

" We leave him in his ' Sunset Terrace.' Here he will 
sleep to the lullaby of the sea. The pines will whisper 
above him, the white gulls will drift across his marble 
couch and the clinging vines will shelter the summer birds 
that chant his requiem. Sleep on, old friend ! and when 
the morning dawns, the broken links of love will join again 
and life in endless joy flow on and on forever." 



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